


Between Thunder and the Dark

by darklittlestories



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Are you shocked?, Claustrophobia, Defeated Thor, Dubious Consent, Inspired by a Trailer, Loki schemes, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Magic, Odin is dead, Ragnarok Trailer inspired, Slight Triggers for:, Suicidal Thoughts, Vaguely Implied for a Moment, magical roofies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-27 10:46:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10807527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darklittlestories/pseuds/darklittlestories
Summary: In all his long life, he has never known defeat like this. Cast out of his home and unable to lift Mjolnir he had been lost and hurt and bewildered, but that is nothing compared to the emptiness of this.He had never thought to be broken.____________Meanwhile, Loki plans. The idea’s shot through with desperation for Thor’s safety. Loki’s hesitant and, yes, frightened. More terrified than he’s ever been. The dread sits ill within him.He doesn’t often doubt his ability nor his willingness toward extreme measures, but this undertaking is a test of even his limits.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ravenbringslight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenbringslight/gifts).



> Wishing you a marvelous (get it? GET IT?) birthday, Raven! 
> 
> You have been so amazing as a friend and beta reader and general fandom-squee-sharer I can't thank you enough! I'm so thrilled to have gotten to know you:D 
> 
> Nine+ realms of love to you and Golden, Gleaming, Arcane Asgardian Birthday Magic to you, May Queen! <3
> 
> Thank you so very much, [sexualthorientation](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sexyscholar), for the beta read and pushing me further into the meaty story of this. And we may all thank her for the don't-even-JOKE-about-this-not-being-explicit-slash' guidance;) I was hype AF to write this then I was swirling in doubt writing for my usual beta reader and our sexyscholar helped me slay the worry.

**Thunder and Rain**

Thor roars, muscles bunching up and straining at the chains.

His echo taunts him with his helplessness and total solitude in the small chamber, clanging off the metal walls.

He growls, writhes, and curses until he tires himself, head falling to his chest as the rage is spent. It leaves in its wake a terrible vacuum and grief fills it immediately.

He mourns for so much. His home is stolen. The weapon that was more companion than tool, destroyed.  
  
And _Loki_. He is forever finding, then losing his brother.  
  
He hasn’t had the luxury of shock or anger, much less joy at Loki’s still being alive. There had been no time, even in the weeks wandering and searching on Midgard and certainly not after, _after,_ in the blood-haze of battle—losing battle.

And how it can be that Asgard has fallen, he cannot even comprehend.  
  
His captors could have lied. They’d come in like carrion eaters to snatch him from the fight. He assigned no honor to them.

So Thor does not _know_ that Asgard is lost, but he feels it.

He had felt it would be so from the moment he’d seen Death crush his hammer.

It’s too much. Too much loss and now he’s alone with it.

Lok lives. Loki has left him.

  
The thought of his erstwhile brother stings. He croaks out a harsh noise that catches in his throat and then he’s sobbing. Aborted tears burn and blur his eyes but he’s as dry inside as his skin is soaked. The tiny space is hot, the air stale. His hair hangs in a heavy curtain around his bowed head.

In all his long life, he has never known defeat like this. Cast out of his home and unable to lift Mjolnir he had been lost and hurt and bewildered, but that is nothing compared to the emptiness of this.

He had never thought to be broken.  
  
The fury was still fueling him when he’d been taken. When Loki had vanished in a glimmer as Thor was caught, the abandonment had made Thor a screaming beast. Then they’d dragged him away like hunted quarry.  
  
Now all the fire has gone to ash within.

The memory is heavy and he feels thick and hazy and numbness settles in to him, marrow deep.

* * *

He doesn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he feels a cool hand on his brow. His hand twitches open instinctively to call Mjolnir and her absence slams into him. His eyes flash open and he gasps to see Loki there, clean and immaculate.  
  
He’s dressed in new finery and his hair is neat and shining. Everything about him looks crisp and composed but for the concerned tilt to his brows and the manic glint in his eyes. They search Thor’s and he smooths his hands over Thor’s face.

Thor’s voice is raspy and it hurts to speak. “Loki, where—”

“There is no time, Thor. Would you have my aid or no?”  
  
“Your _aid_?” Thor shrieks, the sound ripping from his throat. “You left me there, Brother! You fought at my side and when I needed you…” His voice breaks and he can’t continue. He hangs his head again.

“Thor, I will help you, I swear it, but I can do nothing yet. You must wait.”

A dark humor Thor’s never felt before bubbles up within and he looks up at Loki through his dirty, lank hair. “Well, fortune favors you. I am hardly going anywhere.”  
  
It sounds and feels as if he’s swallowed sand.  
  
Loki gives him a thin-lipped smile that doesn’t match his worried eyes. He cuts his hands through the air and _opens_ it, and the gold-and-emerald shimmer reveals a goblet.  
  
“Drink.”  
  
_It’ll be poison,_ Thor thinks, absolutely certain.  
  
He lets Loki tip it into his mouth.

**  
** **Magic and Darkness**

It takes Loki less than a week to gather what he needs, but it feels like three long moons of waiting. He paces his borrowed chamber, scrawls notes in ink that reveals itself only to Loki’s touch. He sends out the All-Father’s (no, not any longer) ravens with orders and instructions and little sacks of gold coin and rarer payments. Knowledge, information, a tiny pinch of a rare herb.

They return only at darkest night when clouds blot out even the stars. With them they carry rolled notes and packages wrapped in oilcloth or beaten metal boxes or leather and they make no sound, their eyes glittering in candlelight as they accept small bits of flesh as payment. Loki feeds them with his hands, tearing at the carcass of one of the fat mice that scurry through the Grandmaster’s palace.  
  
He’s distracted, his mind examining his schemes and spells. This is magic he’d never let himself consider, really. The thought would flit through his mind but he never let it take hold. He never entertained the thought, never allowed himself to.  
  
But he can’t really deny now that he wants this, for so many reasons. The idea’s shot through with desperation for Thor’s safety. Loki’s hesitant and, yes, frightened. More terrified than he’s ever been. The dread sits ill within him.

He doesn’t often doubt his ability nor his willingness toward extreme measures, but this undertaking is a test of even his limits.  
  
Muninn butts his head against Loki’s hand affectionately, pulling him from his reverie.

They comfort him now, these conspirators. They’d flown to him after Odin had fallen and whispered secrets to him in their strange language. He no longer hears the raucous squawking when they call, only a susurrus of snake-like hissing and little clicking patterns that compose their speech.

He pets them each fondly, and they fly off on silent black wings, invisible in the inky dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor, perhaps not quite so broken as he'd thought, accepts Loki's help. As ever, there is a price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't beta'd. It's been a long day & will be a long one tomorrow and I wanted to get this posted while I could. If you see any errors, never hesitate to point me to them:D

**The Burning of Light**   
  


It’s several days before Thor sees Loki again. 

He’s still not sure the first visit hadn’t been a waking dream.   
  
By now he’s being fed a watery gruel once a day by a waif-like young woman with eyes that look as dead as he feels inside. She never speaks, only stares into some undefined space as she spoons the tasteless fluid into his mouth. When she comes, light from Sakaar’s twin suns blinds him.

It’s the first time he’s been able to measure time since his confinement.   
  
His chains have been switched for leather straps. He is either more weakened than he’d thought or there’s some enchantment on them. He forces down gratitude for the more comfortable bondage and the meager rations. It surprises him to find he has enough pride left to refuse to allow such feelings.

Tonight after some hours have passed a light manifests to his back. He can see the ragged edges of his shadow on the metal door.   
  
“Loki?” 

“Aye.” 

It is him. The voice is a balm to Thor. Soft hands alight on his shoulders, gently brush his hair from his face.   
  
Thor sobs, and Loki comes to face him, leaving soft amber witchlights hovering behind Thor’s back. Loki takes him by the chin, examining him with a critical eye as the healers used to do.    
  
“Are they feeding you?” Loki asks, and his voice sounds thick.    
  
Thor sighs. “Aye.”

“Not enough,” Loki says, and the emotion in his voice is cold and deadly now.

He produces a sack from the air. Standing over Thor, he slowly feeds him a round loaf of crusty bread and sharp, rich cheese. When Thor protests at the offer of more, Loki vanishes the remaining food, and then calls the goblet is in his hand.    
  
“Here. It’s a wine fortified with healing herbs.”   
  
Thor drinks deep of a rich apple-wine mingled subtly with strange flavors. It cools him in a way no wine ever has, and then a familiar sensation spreads to his limbs.    
  
“How?” he asks Loki, incredulous.

His brother shrugs. “I had her make some of the last harvest into wine.” Tears are shining in his eyes.

“How did you know?” Thor asks, his voice accusing.   
  
“I didn’t know it would be the  _ last _ harvest. I merely wanted a way to store their benefits in case I had to flee Asgard.”

Thor wants to drag more from Loki, to shake him and shout at him until he has answers to the hundred questions he’s had churning in his mind since he’d first seen his brother wearing his own face. But he’s so weary still, and the answers would change nothing. 

They have nothing left; none of it matters.    
  
Loki tilts his head, his brow creasing.   
  
“Thor, we will get out of this. I will help you, as I swore to you.”   
  
Thor barks out a harsh laugh. “You truly are mad, Brother. What possible help is there for me now?”

“You mustn’t give up, Thor. I have a plan, but you must be willing to let me work. I need your  _ will  _ for this.”   
  
“My will. Loki, I… what will has a wretch in a cage?” He pulls at the bonds to remind Loki how low he has fallen.

“There are several things I require of you. The least of them shall be the first. And even this you’ll find quite distasteful.”

“I care not, Loki. Just tell me plainly what you want of me.”

Loki explains the first element of his scheme.   
  
And he’d spoken truly: Thor is distinctly unhappy, but he sets his jaw and nods.   
  
Loki twists his wrists and with a flash of metal, he holds two knives Thor has never seen. The handles are a rich sapphire color, and the blades look lethal.    
  
Thor steels himself, and says, “Do it, then.”   
  


**Shadows and Metal**

Loki eats in his rooms, taking advantage of the Grandmaster’s absence on some errand. His platter is piled with breads, smoked meats, a variety of cheeses, and exotic fruits. He secrets a loaf and a wheel of cheese away for Thor and leaves the rest for the servants and moves to the window.   
  
The closest moon is nearly full, the others at sufficient distance not to influence his seidr. It’ll be tricky. The months are short here but the moon will be bright for some days yet and he’ll need his ravens. He has a plan for this, too, of course.   
  
But now, he unwraps the large leather packages from Nidavellir. The craftwork is breathtaking. On the surface the weapons and shield are simple, utilitarian: The blunt mace; the shield; and two short swords reminiscent of a minimalist Midgardian style with an odd doubled sheath that straps to the shoulders. 

But he can feel their potential energy humming low and quiet beneath the surface, waiting for him to feed them his sorcery.   
  
When the maid has left him and the scuttling of the palace’s dignitaries and underlings quiets, he fades into darkness and goes to collect the first thing of power from his brother.

**Sacrifice**

Despite his acquiescence, Thor is wary as Loki approaches, blades glittering menacingly. He strides into Thor’s space, smiling with eyes too bright and does a showy flip of one blade, catching it after a turn and a half by the blade without touching either cruel edge. He offers the handle to Thor.   
  
“To calm your obvious mistrust, Brother,” Loki says softly.   
  
“It is not mistrust but memory, Loki. I know well the sting of your blades.”

“So you do.”    
  
He grabs Thor by the nape of the neck, the steely grip a parody of the old affectionate gesture. He forces Thor’s head back, looks down at him over his aristocratic nose, and makes the first cut.   
  
The long lock of sun-bleached gold falls, spinning slowly to the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-beta'd chapter because I'm in a minor rush to get to real life stuff.

**Gifts and Hidden Words**   
  
Loki strides back to his rooms, veiled in an illusion of dimness.

He passes a drunken couple beginning their bed games in the corridor but their eyes are compelled to slide away from him. His prize is in a fist clenched tight with anger. As a boy he’d thought Thor’s golden hair was a crown unto itself, a portent of his inevitable future. He forces himself to loosen his grip, and chokes down tears that prick his eyes as he runs his fingers over the thick braid of hair, now clean and silken.  
  
In his chamber, he secrets the hair away in the not-space, and retrieves a small locked chest. When he opens it, his stomach gives a worried flip. The contents for the most part are mundane for a sorcerer’s possession, but one item is causing the hesitation. He rummages through the herbs, spices, and strange roots, his nervousness rattling the glass bottles together. Beneath them, there is a heavy object wrapped in layers of silk. This is the only item from Midgard, and Loki himself doesn’t know where or how the raven found it.   
  
He’d been mildly shocked and impressed when Muninn had dropped it into his curious hands, but was unsurprised that the creature had anticipated his need.

He’s reluctantly admiring: The mortals certainly are inventive. He wonders if it is machine crafted or made by some artisan.

He stows it away for now and arranges the spell ingredients into order on a large table. As he sorts them into two groups, his mind wanders. The first spell is the key. Without it he cannot protect Thor. But he looks over the materials and senses a lack.   
  
Rose quartz and powdered moonstone from Alfheim.   
Crushed pearl dust from Asgard’s Great Sea.   
Ocimum basilicum   
Elettaria   
Turnera diffusa   
  
It should work, but that is not enough.   
  
It _must_ work.

He’s lost in the recesses of his mind, mulling over the contents he’s memorized of the books and scrolls he’s been studying. One of the ravens nuzzles up against his hand like a great cat and he pets it absently. It hisses impatiently but he barely hears it. _A strong liquor, perhaps, to lower inhibitions? He may well need that himself_ \--   
  
Muninn pecks at his hand then nips him hard.

“What?” Loki snaps.  
  
The raven tilts its head and for all the realms Loki can feel the beast thinking at him: _Idiot._

Loki sees the raven has shed a single perfect feather. It pushes it toward his hand with its beak and begins to lecture her companion. Loki can still sense its impatience as it reminds him of the secret of its name. “Thought and Memory,” they are called, the twin ravens.

But Muninn has ever been translated wrong. Its true meaning is Desire, and this is why it has given Loki the thing he most needs.  
  
He closes his eyes in relief and shakes his head at his own shortsightedness.   
  
“Oh, you darling creature. Thank you.”  
  
  
**The Weight of Dread**

Thor feels weightless and unmoored without his hair. He’s glad Loki allowed him a neat, trimmed beard at least, and that he wasn’t shaved bald. Though this feels close enough.   
  
He’s grateful for the small ease he feels when the girl brings him his food ration that day and doesn’t ask or doesn’t notice the change in his appearance. Likely, given her glassy eyes, she does not care.   
  
He eats quickly, spoonfed and feeling distant from the humiliation of it. He lets his mind wander idly, and it moves toward Loki’s last visit. He dreads this next sacrifice, for Loki knows Thor well. If it were something so small as blood or pain, he would have known these are but trifles to a warrior of Asgard.   
  
What is it then, that he will find worse than having his hair shorn, worse than spilling blood? He’s already lost his hammer and thus his connection to the storm. He is bereft, and he can do nothing but allow time to pass. Each hour adds to the weight settling into his chest.

He expects to sleep before Loki returns, but starts at the sudden glow in his peripheral vision. The expression Loki wears ignites Thor’s worry into a white-hot panic. Loki looks as if he’s approaching a deadly beast.

Thor swallows hard.  
  
“Oh, Ymir’s balls,” Loki says. “We’d best get this done quickly.” He opens space in the now-familiar gesture, and two flasks appear. Loki tucks the golden one into his complicated clothing and takes a deep drink from the silver. He sneers just a bit, blinking rapidly.   
  
“Dwarf made liquor. Tastes like acid and piss.” He offers it to Thor, twisting a hand in the air and freeing Thor’s right hand.   
  
“Norns, will I need it? What are we doing, Loki?”   
  
Loki laughs then, a mad, unhinged giggle. “I think it’s better you don’t know just yet.” He pulls an even worse face as he takes another drink.   
  
Thor accepts the flask, eyes wide, and tosses back a hearty mouthful. “Hel. You were too kind to the dwarves, Brother.”   
  
“Mm.”   
  
The burn eases into a steadying warmth and Thor relaxes a fraction. If this is to be so daunting a task, at least his brother seems just as reluctant as Thor himself. The feeling reminds him of their first foray into battle as young men, and this bolsters his courage.   
  
“Let us have it done then, Loki.”   
  
Heavy lashes fall closed as Loki inhales deeply and whispers a very quiet, “Fuck.”

He offers the golden flask to Thor, assuring him, “This will taste like the mead of Valhalla after that Dwarven swill. Still, best take it all in one go.”  
  
The metal is warm in Thor’s hand, and he pulls the stopper. The scent is odd but indeed quite appealing.   
  
Loki bites his lip. He’s pink to the tips of his ears and a bead of sweat trickles from his brow.  
  
There’s a tremor in Thor’s hand as he tips the fluid and drains it in a series of swallows.  
  
Loki makes a strangled whimper as he watches Thor’s throat bob. When Thor looks up at him, both hands fly to cover his face. They’re so beautiful, those hands. So shapely, pale, and clever.   
  
Thor feels wonderful. The trepidation is but a memory. He’s flooded with the sweetest affection for his ridiculous, darling little brother. Loki always did overthink everything, working that incredible mind into knots.   
  
There is nothing to fear. Not when they’re working together.  
  
“Loki,” Thor croons, “Don’t hide from me, Little Brother. All will be well.”   
The fingers spread, and it’s so charming, one round green eye peaking through. The lid is heavy from the spirits and _Oh, isn’t that alluring?_   
  
“Come here, Brother,” Thor asks, feeling an urgency to touch him. The want spreads through him like warmed honey and he sighs quietly as his prick begins to harden.  
  
Loki moves toward him, and Thor finds his arm bound tightly again.   
  
He chuckles. Loki always did love his games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, regarding the spell: Basil (ocimum basilicum), lavender (lavandula), damiana (turnera diffusa) and cardamom (elettaria cardamomum) are frequently used in Wiccan love/lust spells. I used the Latin names to make them sound less like Loki plundered your own herb garden;) I know it makes no sense but *handwaves* fantasy!!!!
> 
> For fun I also used some ingredients from Amortentia, the attraction spell from Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince. If I were to smell Amortentia I’m 100% certain cardamom would be part of the scent. It’s so deliciously wonderful. (This spell has a different scent to each person according to their desires and associations.)
> 
> As always when I post ingredients from real life, these herbs may be toxic. DON'T ever ever ever ingest them or apply topically without knowing actual botanical (NOT holistic, not essential oil ‘guru’ knowledge; that shit can hurt or kill you if you do it wrong) practices. 
> 
> Regarding Muninn's secret: There's a translation theory that Muninn isn’t "memory" but desire. I'm obsessed with this because I can see thought/desire as compliments or even opposites at times and thought/memory are too similar. 
> 
> From [norse-mythology.org](http://norse-mythology.org/gods-and-creatures/others/hugin-and-munin/):  
> “Hugin (Old Norse Huginn) comes from the word hugr, [9] “thought.” Munin (Old Norse Muninn) comes from the word munr,[10] which is more difficult to translate, but can encompass the concepts of “thought,” “desire,” and “emotion.” (The two ravens’ names are often translated as “Thought” and “Memory” in popular works on Norse mythology, and “Thought” is quite accurate, but “Memory” is at best imprecise and rather arbitrary.)”


	4. Chapter 4

**Strange Sorcery**   
  
Thor is secured, and it gives Loki some small peace that should the charm wear off, he won’t be in danger of being bashed with Thor’s fists. He’s as affectionate as a pup right now, but Loki’s never used a spell of this ilk and attraction spells are unpredictable at best.  
  
He’s close enough to touch but is still wary. He knows that later when Thor is free (and Loki cannot think _if;_ the plan must work) and they’ve made their escape, his brother’s rage will be a berserker’s blind fury.     
  
He checks the silver flask to find it bone dry. Inspiration strikes and he snatches the golden flask from Thor’s lap. Fuck. It’s gone dry as well, but—oh. _Oh._ Loki brushes against the thick shape of Thor’s erect cock and he pulls away as if he’d touched his brother’s lightning.   
  
The darting movement jostles the device held within Loki and he gives a short surprised huff. He’s swelling, himself, and quickly.   
  
“Loki,” Thor pleads, “Brother, touch me again?” His eyes are beckoning pools of dark want.   
  
Loki bites his lip and moves in, and Thor actually nuzzles him. His face rubs, so warm, against Loki’s abdomen and he gives a playful little nip just by Loki’s navel. Loki’s cock twitches and he feels an odd flutter around the object buried within.   
  
Right, then. Best simply to begin.   
  
He turns his back to Thor, and undoes the laces of his trousers to soft, desperate whimpers and pulls them just low enough to expose his ass. This elicits a deep growl. The sound is like a physical touch to Loki’s prick. He reaches behind himself to remove the metal piece, a sort of stopper. He can’t get at it.

“Damn.” He bends over, unbuckling his boots to a curious, awed sound from Thor as the flared base of the heavy stopper glints from his hole. Loki groans softly in reply. It’s quite large, as he’d known it must be to prepare him.

He shucks his trousers and turns back to Thor, eyes falling on a damp spot in Thor’s leggings.   
  
“What is that, Loki?” Thor asks, and the wonder in his voice breaks Loki’s heart a little. He’s a simple, pure being right now while days ago he had seen Thor shattered.   
  
“Will you show me again? It’s so lovely, just _ah,_ just buried there in you.”   
  
Loki flushes deeply but his pride and the plain desire in Thor’s voice make him bold. He spins around and bends neatly at the waist, hands braced at the backs of his thighs.  
  
The sound Thor makes has Loki stone-hard and leaking.   
  
He teases his fingers over the curves of his ass, letting himself enjoy the helpless noises pouring out of Thor. The pressure within has ceased to be uncomfortable and when he touches the base he moans openly at the sensation as it shifts. As he pulls it out carefully it brushes against the sweet little knot of nerves and he whines.

A tickling drip of warm oil escapes and Thor moans Loki’s name.

**Heat and Power**

Thor can’t understand why Loki pulls away, why he won’t just let Thor touch him, but it’s difficult to think with the thrilling ache of need infusing him, rushing his blood to his skin and pounding hard in his prick.

When Loki bends over and Thor has a full view of all that milky skin, with the silver shine of metal gleaming from his hole, he feels hot and needy all over. He _itches_ to touch and claim that jewel, to release it—to replace it.   
  
When Loki removes it, when a drop of thick oil escapes and traces a perfect thigh pulled taut, Thor breaks with the need for his brother.   
  
“Loki.”   
  
When he turns to Thor, his cock bobs in the air, dew spilling from the tip. A beautiful pink flush stains the pale planes of his cheeks and bare chest. Finally he moves toward Thor, darkness in his eyes and lips parted on heavy breaths.   
  
Thor is dizzy with want. He doesn’t notice Loki’s hands casting swirls into the air until he feels the blessed freedom of the restraints and his clothing dissipating like so much smoke.

He whines, and then Loki is in his lap, and his world shrinks to the places where they touch.  
  
He’s impatient and guides his cock to Loki’s entrance, and there’s no complaint, no resistance; Loki shifts his hips and a lets out a long, low moan when Thor slips in.   
  
He falls against Thor as if overwhelmed, and is pliant and whimpering as Thor thrusts upward. His hands are weak, but they find themselves again as he runs them over Loki’s body, testing his fists with every swell of flesh he can reach. He kneads the mounds of Loki’s ass, grips onto shoulders and digs clawed, frenzied fingers into thighs.   
  
Loki rouses as Thor’s greedy touches grow stronger. He rests his forehead against Thor’s and begins to writhe above him, a sinuous, liquid movement drawing unimaginable pleasure from Thor. His cock is weeping onto Thor’s belly and his voice and breath are one, a constant panted “ _ah, ah, ah.”_

Thor is falling toward his peak, but it’s just out of reach. Even this is a thing of ecstasy, being held at the brink.   
  
Loki’s soft panting becomes urgent, and he says, “Hold, hold on, I cannot… I, hah, I need to spill. I cannot think, I need…”   
  
Thor laughs, delighted, and grips Loki’s lovely, silken length. He’s barely touched and Loki comes in hard, hot splashes onto Thor’s soaking his abdomen and running down to where they’re joined.   
  
“Wait, nnn… wait a moment, Brother, I must… ooohhhh,”

Thor hovers at the edge as Loki flutters and clenches tight and velvety around Thor’s cock. At last the spasming stills and Loki is gulping air in deeply and slowly, exhaling warm gusts against Thor’s face.  
  
Loki looks vulnerable and guileless and almost intoxicated. He’s beautiful and when Thor tilts up his mouth, he opens sweetly and they kiss with wild hunger. Thor’s hips roll in quick, small circles.   
  
Loki pulls back, and the heavy silver stopper appears in his trembling hand.   
  
“Brother, I need you to call the lightning.”

Thor stills immediately. “I cannot." He's anguished by the demand. "Why would you ask this of me?”   
  
Loki pushes on. “You can and you must. The storm lives in here,” he insists, hand pressed against Thor’s heart.   
  
“I can’t not without—”   
  
“Just reach out. Move within me, feel the power we’ve stirred between us. Feel the quickening of your blood, the need in your balls, your heart and _reach_ .”   
  
The words ignite a fire in Thor, and he fucks up into Loki with brutal force. He can feel the moment the hidden sky answers. His eyes white out and electricity crackles. He comes with a roar and the rain falls in a torrent pounding on the metal roof.   
  
Loki spasms again hard, body tense and shaking and Thor knows he’s poured a great power into his brother along with his seed.   
  
Loki draws away quickly, looking regretful. But he slips the thick stopper back into his hole, and Thor groans with the pleasure it gives him to see Loki lock away Thor’s semen within his body.   
  
His body buzzes with satisfaction as he watches Loki put them both back in order. He explains Thor’s role regretfully as he fastens the straps back over his wrists.   
  
But Thor is willing and knows he will be armed with more than new weapons when the time comes. 

Even after Loki has gone, Thor smiles in the dark, his eyes still glowing softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, evidently I can’t make Asgardians say "butt plug". LOL. 
> 
>  
> 
> Purely for RESEARCH I did some Pornhub searches. Here, have some butt plug removal and play. (Obviously the most NSFW links possible.)  
> le porns: <https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5736954116474>  
> Le GIANT porns: <https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=1607882751>
> 
> This isn't just un-beta's it isn't even self-edited because my week is fucking bananaballs.


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